


She's gonna have kittens!

by Alistra (ALeaseInWonderland)



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fluff, Just Add Kittens, Liho more like lil' Ho, M/M, Multi, Pets, all the pets - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALeaseInWonderland/pseuds/Alistra
Summary: The one where their cats hooked up before their humans got the message.or:Bonding via mutual pet-offspring.(There's kittens, why are you still reading the summary?)
Relationships: Alpine/Liho, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Kate Bishop/America Chavez
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46
Collections: Winterwidowhawk Fest





	She's gonna have kittens!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CloudAtlas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudAtlas/gifts).



> This is fluffy as all hell and makes me tremendously happy.
> 
> Big thanks to **CloudAtlas** for the best beta on the block come hell, high water or pandemics.
> 
> Thank you to **gsparkle** who holds a cornucopia of ~~terrible~~ amazing euphemisms and who patiently let me pester her with snippets of this fic since it was a kitten of a prompt. (They grow up so fast.) She's the best cheerleader there is.

“Hi, can you stop looking at your phone for a single minute?" Natasha says, drumming her nails. "Hi. Great. I'm Natasha Romanoff, I am here about the pregnancy test?”

“Hi, I'm Darcy and we’re a veterinarians?" the brunette bombshell behind the counter replies sweetly. "Which is like a real doctor but for animals, so I see why a bitch would be confused.” 

Outrageously, Bucky catches Natasha around the waist just in time before she can vault the desk to strangle the smirking receptionist, effectively putting her in time out - i.e. the office's waiting room.

He deposits Natasha in one of the creaking chairs and, visibly unimpressed by her murderous glare, prevents her from jumping right back up again. “Stop. I’m going to check on Alpine’s appointment. You sit here for a moment and calm yourself down – no, _stay!_ ”

The situation that has brought them to this doctor's office is stressful for both of them, so she reluctantly forgives his momentary lapse of good manners. However, on the ground next to her seat, the golden retriever wearing the cone of shame perks right up at Bucky's stern tone of voice, yipping an affirmative and ceasing his nervous shuffling to sit at attention.

“That was amazing,” Natasha vaguely hears the blond guy at the other end of the dog’s leash mutter after Bucky's returned to the front desk. “Hey Lucky, why do you never listen when _I_ tell you to stay?”

“This is all your fault!” Natasha hisses, eyes fixed on the ceiling to collect herself. “I’ll have your furry little balls cut off, and if I have to do it myself!”

The guy yelps high enough to draw a concerned look from his dog. “Why?! What did I do?!”

Glancing over, Natasha notices him for the first time. “Huh? Oh. Not you, I was talking to Romeo over there.” She nods at one of two pet carriers over by the wall in which a pitch black cloud of furry wrath blinks two yellow, gleaming eyes. Its hiss discourages closer scrutiny.

“Is that a…” the guy squints hesitantly, “… wolverine?”

Natasha's brows draw together as she tries to figure out whether he's joking.

“Have you never seen a cat before?”

The cage rattles.

“Not one like _that.”_

Bucky returns with a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like it has the receptionist's phone number scribbled on the back. Natasha can see that the back of his neck is slightly flushed when he bends to carefully retrieve the second carrier. The cloud of downy white contained within makes little plumes against the door's metal grid where the cat tries in vain to rub up against her human affectionately. It's noticeable that despite the distress of being in her transport box, she gladly accepts the scritches behind the ear Bucky delivers through the lattice of the cage's door. Without a doubt, Liho would immediately maim any finger unwisely poked into his containment cell, Natasha thinks. She glares harder as the cage changes over into the hands of the receptionist, who accepts it with a sugar-sweet smile for Bucky before sashaying away. 

“Okay, so… Doctor Foster is seeing Alpine now. They should be out in a little while and then we'll know more.” Bucky sighs and sits in the empty chair between them, happily obliging as Lucky licks his hands.

“Hey buddy, who are you?”

“That’s Lucky,” says the leash-holder, voice curiously tight and with the closest thing to a lust-struck expression on his face that Natasha has ever seen on a fully clothed person. To be fair, she can't blame him. It's not a bad mental image, to substitute man for dog on the floor, devotedly worshipping Bucky's fingers. 

“And I’m Clint" the guy continues, blissfully unaware of the inappropriate softcore porn that Natasha's mind has turned into. "And you – you’re really dominant. I mean, authoritative. To dogs. You, you really know how to talk. To dogs. Not people.”

“Are you about to faint?” Natasha asks, straining not to let her delight show. “All your blood seems to be rerouted to your…” she quirks an eyebrow “… face.”

Bucky grins and offers Clint his hand to shake, but notices at the last moment that it's covered in dog slobber.

They make an awkward aborted pantomime greeting and end up bumping elbows.

“Nice to meet you, Clint,” he laughs. "Bucky."

“Likewise, and no, his name's _Lucky,_ with an L,” Clint returns, smiling broadly. It does very nice things to his already handsome, if red, face. 

_"He's_ called Bucky," Natasha clarifies, tilting her head briefly at the guy in question before holding out her own, clean hand right across his chest. "Sorry about earlier. I'm Natasha."

Clint's grip is firmer than anticipated, his hand large and warm and as their eyes meet, something intangible definitely sparks between them. The handshake is a little on the long side as well, which Bucky doesn't miss, if his amused raised eyebrow is any indication.

Clearing his throat, Clint reluctantly drops her hand and, obviously unsure what to do with his own now, runs it nervously over the back of his head. 

"So, uhm, you guys have cats? Any other pets?" he asks, fumbling to keep the conversation going.

"Just the one for either one of us. Fingers crossed we don't find out today that number's about to go up," Bucky says, still idly scratching Lucky's head. The dog's cone is resting on the edge of his knees, hiding a likely blissed-out expression from sight. 

"Do you have enough room to keep the litter, if push comes to shove?"

"We'd have to decide who they're gonna live with first. Ain't that right, Buddy? Alpine's gonna be a single momma," Bucky says, pulling faces at the dog.

"Oh, you don't live together?" Clint says, and there's a note of something like increased interest to his tone. 

"No." Both Bucky and Natasha laugh good-naturedly at the very notion before she explains; "We're just neighbours. It's our cats who've hooked up."

"She means her naughty tom got my good little girl in trouble," Bucky interjects almost like a conspiratory aside to Clint. 

"You can stop right there," she frowns, watching Bucky grin and lean into Clint's personal space to evade her impending swat - Clint doesn't seem to mind the sudden proximity in the least. "I'm not having a debate on fundamental feminism with you _again_ -" Natasha cuts herself off, aware she got herself riled up just the way he clearly expected her to.

It's at that moment that Darcy reappears in the doorway with Alpine's carrier in her hands and a saccharine smile on her Ferrari-red lips. 

"Hey, mazel-tov you guys, the results were pretty conclusive. No worries though lady, I guess you still look pretty spry for a Granny."

~*~

About 8 weeks later, Natasha's phone goes off at 3:48 a.m.

"...there would have been time to get dressed," Bucky offers after mutely opening and closing his mouth. Considering the way he’s staring at her standing there, barefoot in their floor's hallway, it's possible he expected her to be more put together than just throwing an oversized knitted cardigan on over her sleeping attire of a tank top and drooping yoga pants. 

"I hurried," she says superfluously. As if the fact that she's standing at his door four minutes after reading his text didn't make that abundantly clear.

"Coffee?" Bucky asks with a rueful grin and steps aside to let her in.

~*~

"I feel like a 1950's husband chain smoking down the hall from the delivery room," Natasha says around 5 in the morning.

For the first hour after Natasha's arrival, Alpine paced the entirety of the apartment, crying and stopping every so often to clean herself. Soon after however, she secluded herself to a pile of towels and t-shirts at the bottom of Bucky's closet. Last time he’d quietly checked on her, she was mewling and panting, but seemed otherwise alright, so the humans had stayed out of her way and stuck to the couch. 

"Imagine doing that to the person you love most and then just hearing them suffer without being able to do anything about it," Bucky adds miserably, quickly dragging his hand away from his face as he realizes he was about to nervously chew a nail again.

"Thank God I'm never having children," Natasha says. 

"No?" he looks surprised but not put off. "What makes you so sure?" 

It's quite a personal question, but they're sitting on his couch together in the gloomy half-world of night turning into day, their voices low so as not to disturb his cat in the next room - it's pretty intimate already.

"Oh, I'm sure," Natasha repeats with conviction, making a snipping motion with her fingers over the vague vicinity of her midsection, then shrugs one shoulder. "I've always _been_ certain, so I went and _made_ certain." 

Bucky nods pensively. 

"Let's have it then." Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Have what?"

"People tend to have an _opinion_ at this point in the conversation."

"On what? What you do with your life and your body?" He looks kind of cute in his naive confusion.

"Yes!"

"I don't see how it's anyone's business. I mean, it's your decision to make. But for what it's worth, I respect both you and the choice you've made." He shrugs as if things genuinely were just that simple and drains the last of his coffee. 

"You don't think it makes me _less of a woman_?" Natasha can't help but make air quotes as she presses the subject.  
Bucky's brows draw together. "Don't tell me someone actually said that."

Her face clearly expresses _you'd be surprised._

"Wow, that's fucked up," he says emphatically.

"I'm starting to feel like you're not just saying that to get in my pants," Natasha jokes wryly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, sorry." Thankfully, Bucky chuckles. "That thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

Natasha makes a show of straightening her hopelessly rumpled bed hair and pulling up the too-large socks that she's borrowed. "I'll try not to be too disappointed," she deadpans.

He tries to keep his laugh quiet for Alpine's sake, but still the mood has successfully recovered from its more serious turn. Especially when, a moment later, he exclaims: "Well, _now_ it's on my mind, thanks a lot!" He pushes the heels of both hands into his eyes and chuckles with the exhausted amusement of a man who's been up for close to 24 hours. "I'll better go check on her again." 

Natasha's laughter follows him out the door.

~*~

By morning, Alpine is proud mother to a small but healthy litter of two and Bucky and Natasha have celebratory sandwiches in the kitchen around 7 a.m.

The single chair is piled high with books and bags and all sorts of stuff, so Natasha perches on the edge of the table and watches him put together what turns out to be the best BLT she's had in ages. He's handy with a knife and it's fun to see him show off how fast he can slice tomatoes and chop up some fruit as a side snack. They eat in comfortable silence and, once everything has been cleared away, Bucky wipes his hands on a towel, leans back against the sink, and gives her an amused look. 

"What are you smirking at me for?"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are." He makes a funny grimace that's probably meant to be an impression of her.

"That's not what I look like," Natasha laughs.

"Is too." He crosses his arms and tilts his chin up at her. "Penny for your thoughts."

For a split-second, she hesitates. "I was thinking how I'm really glad our cats met, 'cause I've rather enjoyed getting to know you better."

Bucky nods, one corner of his mouth tugging up further into a lopsided grin.

"But mostly I was thinking about how much I'd like for you to come over here and kiss me," she adds truthfully, her voice a little softer than before.

The words hang heavily in the quiet of the room as Bucky holds her gaze for a long moment, his crooked smirk never wavering. He purses his lips as if he's stopping to consider her proposition then, looking down at the tips of his socked feet, he pushes off the sink and crosses the short distance between them.

With his arms still over his chest and her knees modestly over one another, they aren't all that close when he finally meets her eyes again. It's the very definition of flirtatious, that look. The amused sparkle in his eye at the playful overacting makes something warm and happy wrap around Natasha's heart.

Her hands are on the edge of the table to either side of her and she, too, makes no move to reach for him when he leans in until his smiling lips are only a breath away from hers.  
Natasha has always been terrible at backing away from a challenge. 

Eyes open and eyebrow quirked in amusement, she touches her nose to his.

Breath held in anticipation, her pulse is loud in her ears when the soft inside of her lower lip catches against his on the slowest of motions. A quick intake of breath is his only reaction as he waits her out, still as a statue.

Their long night shows in the faint dusting of stubble on his cheeks, bristly against her lips where she ghosts kisses over the dimple in his chin and hard lines of his jaw.  
Uncrossing her legs slowly, she brackets his hips, one of her ankles hooking around his thigh to drag him closer. 

"Are you waiting for me to say please?" she whispers into the shell of his ear, feeling the shudder run through him as she forms the words directly against his sensitive skin.

With a sigh like benediction, Bucky's lids flutter shut and he catches her mouth with his own, finally fully committing himself to kissing her properly. His hands alight on her knees, travelling along the outside of her thighs until they reach her backside underneath the huge cardigan. 

It is, for all that it is a first one, a perfectly matched kiss. 

Natasha can't recall a time when a kiss alone has made her run this hot from head to toe; their give and take complimenting each other as if they've been practising for years. With one sharp tug, Bucky closes the distance between their hips, holding her tightly while she in turn has him happily trapped both in the circle of her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. 

It's a good long while before they break for air, matching dizzied smiles on flushed and shiny lips.

"I lied," Bucky whispers, forehead to forehead. "I might have imagined something like this before, too. Can't hold a candle to the real thing, though."

Reluctant to let go of one another, their fingers stay linked as they turn off all the lights on their way to the bedroom, stopping every so often for another lingering kiss as dawn starts peeking through the windows like an envious admirer.

Quietly they make their way under the covers, drifting off in each other's arms to the sound of Alpine purring her children to sleep.

~*~

Natasha shoots out of bed again only a few scant hours later, cursing like a sailor when she remembers that baby daddy Liho is still next door waiting for his breakfast and probably quite moody about the delay.

~*~

Even though Bucky was worried about Alpine being a first-time mother, she proves to be as good in her new role as anyone could have hoped. The days become weeks and soon it will be time to say goodbye to the cute little furballs that have begun to explore Bucky's once-organized apartment.

Natasha spends more time over at Bucky’s place too, a development she knows he is all in favour of. There are a lot of lingering goodbyes however, since it's not a good idea to allow Liho to meet his offspring, nor is it an option to leave him all alone for too long, as they discovered the day the kittens were born. While the stains did eventually come out of the upholstery, the bedroom curtain was beyond hope and Natasha doesn't even dare think about what he did to the potted plants.

The kittens are about 10 weeks old when Bucky's best friend Steve happens to come over for beers one night, bringing his buddy Sam along. 

For Sam and for Alpine's tiny firstborn, it's love at first bite. 

Natasha, curled up in Bucky's lap in the armchair, watches with amusement as the kitten successfully climbs up Sam's shin, ignoring his stifled curses at the needle sharp claws. Despite his verbal protest, he doesn't seem anything but pleased to be chosen as tonight's vantage point, forgetting all about his half-full drink as the animal snuggles down in the crook of his arm. 

"Have you got a name for him, yet?" Steve asks, the game muted for a while now as all three of them are far more entertained watching the seduction of Sam Wilson. 

"His name is Midas," says Sam with conviction. "Look at him, all flecks of black and gold."

"Didn't Midas turn what he _touched_ into gold?" Bucky mutters into Natasha's shoulder, but she just smiles and links their fingers. On the couch opposite them, the kitten wiggles its tiny bum before jumping to conquer the hapless string of Sam's hoody, not to mention his heart.

~*~

After a few days' careful consideration, Sam does end up taking Midas home.

That evening, when Bucky and Natasha are one intertwined tangle of limbs on the couch, the question of what to do with the other kitten inevitably comes up again. 

"Do you remember Clint, the guy with the dog?" Bucky asks, idly finger-combing the tangles out of Natasha's hair. 

Lost to the soothing touch of his hand, she only hums in return.

"At the vet's. The blond with the really great smile."

Natasha scoots back just enough not to go cross-eyed when she looks at him. As if she could forget the source of so many creative scenarios she's dreamed up since. "That's an interesting way for one man to describe another," she teases instead of saying any of this out loud, accepting Bucky's quick peck but not allowing him to distract her with it. "What about Clint?"

"He told me back then that his best friend was looking to adopt a kitten. It's been a while now, but he seemed nice. We could give him a call, see whether that friend already found one. Check out whether she's the responsible type."

"He gave you his number?" 

Natasha's perch on his chest sways with the answering shrug. "Yeah, 'cause of the kittens." He laughs at her expression of disbelief. "What? Why else would he give me his number?"

Natasha continues to look at him, patiently waiting for the penny to drop.

"I mean... I think it was about the kittens?" He doesn't sound so sure anymore. 

"I think," she muses, peppering small kisses along his throat, "he was more eager for you to put a leash on him and take him for walkies down F street, but sure; maybe you're right and it was all about the kittens."

This time, his belly laugh shakes them enough that he has to tighten his arms around her to stop them from tipping off the narrow sofa. "That's... quite an interpretation. If I'd known what a filthy mind you had, I might have fallen in love with you even sooner." He kisses the top of her head as if putting one's heart out there like that was really just that simple. Natasha's stomach is suddenly home to a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

"You're in love with me?" she asks, unable to keep the silly grin from her face as she leans up to search his eyes. 

"And here I thought the shocking amounts of cuddling and affection had given it away."

"You dick. Is it so hard to believe my surprise that what makes you say the words is hearing I think about you fucking another man?" She smothers his renewed chuckle with another kiss which successfully distracts them both for a good while.

"What exactly were you thinking about?" 

They've relocated to his bed when Bucky picks the topic back up again, his cheeks as flushed as Natasha's, who is resting blissfully on his now shirtless chest. 

"This instant?" she mumbles into his skin, eyes closed and still a little breathless. "Not a damn thing."

Amusement rumbles through his chest under her ear. "No. About Clint and I. You said you were thinking about me fucking him. That implies more than a passing notion, doesn't it?"

Natasha mulls this over, fingertips drawing feathery patterns on the sweaty sheen of his ribs, still too flush with afterglow to be ticklish again. "Does it put you off?" 

"No. He was obviously interested in you. I think the only thing stopping him from asking you out was that he thought we might be a couple."

"These things aren't mutually exclusive, you know." She shrugs a shoulder, pressing a grateful kiss to the closest part of his chest as Bucky pulls a blanket over their cooling bodies.

"Oh, I know," he says. There's a curious note to it.

Pushing herself up with her hands on either side of him, she tilts her head, the corner of her lips quirking up. "And what is that supposed to mean? Are you speaking from experience?"

Bucky, apparently far more interested in the way the movement has inadvertently put her chest on display, cups one of her breasts leisurely and watches his thumb lovingly tease at her nipple. 

"Just how _not put off_ are you by the idea?" Natasha asks, pushing into his hand.

"Does it matter? I'm with you. Heart and soul." His other hand slides around to her hip, the blanket falling away as he guides her to sit astride him, his cock already growing interested against her once more. 

"That's very romantic and don't think I'm dismissing it," she leans down until they are joined from groin to chest, tugging the blanket back up over her shoulders until they are cocooned in warmth. "But what if I have been thinking in great detail about your hands in that short blond hair and those big eyes looking up at you?"

They are pressed together too intimately for her to miss the twitch of his immediate reaction.

"Oh?" Natasha grins like a shark. Tucked into the crook of his neck, hidden away between the pillow and the surrounding warmth of the bed, her voice is barely above a whisper. "Should I tell you more?"

Bucky makes a strangled noise, hips jerking up against her as his arms close almost painfully tight on her back. The slight stubble of his cheek rasps against her temple as he nods.

~*~

Conveniently, Clint's friend Kate has not adopted a cat yet. She arrives at Bucky's about a week later with not just Clint in tow, but also a tall beauty called America, who Kate introduces as her _partner, light of my life, and future co-cat parent._

Upon seeing Alpine's remaining little calico, America immediately insists on her being a symbol of good luck. 

"This is a good omen. We should call her Fortuna, after the goddess," she suggests, scratching Alpine behind the ears and watching fondly as the kitten climbs all over Kate. "Would you like that Momma? We'd take good care of your little girl."

"I like Fortuna!" Kate says, picking up the squirming kitten and grinning as a tiny paw bops her nose. "You'll be Tuna for short!"

America rolls her eyes, but she's smiling at her partner with nothing but love.

Bucky and Natasha exchange happy glances. No way are they giving little Fortuna to anybody else.

All five of them are getting along so well in fact that, amidst much friendly conversation, the afternoon turns to evening unnoticed. They order pizza when both Bucky's and America's stomachs growl loudly, after which Natasha briefly disappears next doors to feed poor Liho. 

When she returns, Kate and America are just packing up their things to stop over at the pet store on their way home. While they say their goodbyes to the cats and arrange a time for pick up the next day with Bucky, Clint is taking the empty pizza boxes and cutlery to the kitchen. 

"Hey, thanks. You could have just left them," Natasha says, dropping her keys onto the kitchen table, which has become their home now that she spends so much time at Bucky's place. 

"It’s no bother," he says, sticking his hands in the back pockets of his sagging jeans.

There's not really anything more to say to that and the cramped spaces mean she happens to be blocking the way out of the kitchen. Only she's not moving and he, too, is evidently content just standing in silence, returning her smile. The next move would be to step aside, thank him for facilitating both a new home for the cat and an enjoyable evening before letting him go on his merry way. 

But something stops her.

"Do you have to go, too?" she asks, and to her relief it doesn't come out as flirty as the flutter in her stomach makes it feel.

"Yeah, I really should. We only meant to have a look at the kitten and we’ve already stolen most of your day." His face twists into one of those self-deprecating half-grins that he probably doesn't even know are adorable as all hell. 

"Don't leave on our account." Natasha's hand goes to briefly squeeze his arm as if unthinkingly, before reaching past him to put the leftovers in the fridge and snag two bottles of beer one-handedly on the way back. She holds out a third to Clint. "Just one drink."

He sighs and whether it's defeat, relief or something else, Natasha can't tell. As he moves to accept the beer, they hear the apartment door shut behind his friends.  
Clint takes the bottle, but she holds on for a moment too long, very aware of the way his fingertips lay across hers and of the intense way in which their eyes have locked once again. 

"Alright." 

He nods and she's not fully certain what exactly they've just agreed on, but it feels significant.

They return to the living room, Natasha handing Bucky his own drink before sitting down. 

"Thanks, Nat," Bucky says, accepting the beer with a smile.

His innocent peck to her cheek burns under her skin as much as Clint's intent gaze does behind her.

~*~

Either Clint is a decent actor or he doesn't feel as tense as Natasha does, because the overall mood stays as relaxed as it was before their weird little intermezzo.

It doesn't take long at all until an obscure throwaway reference uncovers that both Bucky and Clint share the love for an ancient video game that Natasha has never heard of before. A frantic moment of joint research reveals a downloadable version and before she knows what's happening, Natasha is watching incredulously from the side-lines while two grown men perch thigh-to-thigh on the very edge of the couch, jostling and laughing over the fate of two pixelated fighters. 

Above all else, their obvious enjoyment is contagious.

When Clint leaves for the bathroom at some point, Bucky sits grinning, taking a last drink before placing the empty bottle on the table.

"So pensive. That's a very dangerous look on your face, Miss Romanoff," he says, eyebrow raised and stretching comfortably. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing much." Natasha smiles, unfolding from her lazy sprawl to accept his outstretched hand. He tugs and she follows, sitting herself down on his knee. "He's nice. I like him."

"Yeah, I do, too. Can't believe he's beat me at every game though. I demand a rematch." He pretends to pout, lips twitching with the effort of not letting it turn into a grin. 

"Aw, you poor, poor man," she humours him, leaning in for a kiss. As they part she adds, "You know, I'm pretty sure he'd kiss it better too, if you asked real nicely."

Bucky's eyes darken, his hand tightening involuntarily where it rests on her hip. "Don't say such things where he could hear."

"Why not? One could argue that's exactly the time to bring it up."

He pulls back to give her an inquiring look. "You're serious."

Natasha shrugs, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "It’s worth finding out whether I'm right, don't you think?" 

Bucky thinks on that a second. "I genuinely like him. Don't know whether it's worth risking a potential friendship. Somehow I don't think that'd still be in the cards if we-" He breaks off as Clint comes back in, hovering in the doorway with an uncertain expression on his face at the discontinued conversation. 

Not for the first time, Natasha wonders what may be going through his head. She pats the sofa in invitation, the same seat he's been in all evening but so different now that she's on Bucky's lap next to it. 

When neither of them makes a move to break the awkward silence, Clint, sitting straight backed and clearly uncomfortable, clears his throat.

"Is that the time," he says without inflection, unsure of where to look.

"I'm sorry," Natasha apologizes, linking her fingers with Bucky's. "This guy was being a sore loser, is all."

"Oh." Clint sounds genuinely relieved, and for a second it makes her hesitant to continue as planned. Like Bucky, she's really begun to like Clint, so it feels daunting to risk this burgeoning friendship. One of the major differences between her and her boyfriend though, is that patience has never been one of her virtues. 

"Maybe you can help settle an argument of ours." She feels Bucky's thigh tense beneath her, his palm a warning pressure against her back. "See, I proposed you'd be happy to help lift his spirits again after so thoroughly kicking his ass at that game."

Clint looks at her with blank confusion.

"Kiss him," she clarifies. "Happy to kiss him."

Still, his face gives nothing away.

"Nat. Stop it." Bucky's dismayed agitation is palpable. 

Stubborn, she shakes her head. "Am I wrong?" she insists. "At the vet's- I'm sure I saw something there-"

Clint nervously clears his throat again. "Listen," but despite clearly holding their undivided attention, he doesn't seem to know how to continue. He turns sideways on the couch to face them, searching for words, hands fluttering as if trying to snatch inspiration from thin air. "I don't mean to cause any tension between you," he finally settles on. "Yeah, I'll admit it, I was kinda checking out both of you when we first met 'cause, come on, you guys must know what you both look like." He rolls his eyes at what he must consider to be obvious. "But I didn't know you'd start a relationship then, did I? I'm genuinely sorry and promise I didn't mean to offend. I wouldn't want to come between you."

Bucky's starting to relax, Natasha can tell without turning to look. She almost feels sorry for him when she pitches her voice low, preparing to make everything infinitely worse. Or, hopefully, better.

"You misunderstand. We were rather hoping you would."

In the resounding quiet that follows, Natasha's pulse in her ears feels deafening. 

Bucky's holding his breath, leaning in to hide his face against her shoulder, whether for protection from embarrassment, anticipation, or to beseech her to quit, she'll never know. Clint's expression is just one big question mark so, her knuckles white around Bucky's hand, she clarifies.

"We were hoping you would. _Come between us,_ that is," she says, raising her eyebrows in emphasis, putting it as bluntly and obvious as she can.

"Oh," Clint supplies, stunned, then as realization trickles in, _"Oooh!"_

"Is that a good or a bad _oh_?" Bucky asks, his voice wrecked.

"Good? I think?" Clint doesn't sound at all certain, but an honest kind of happiness is beginning to steal over his face like a sunrise.

Natasha, afraid that her usually so well-maintained cool facade may be failing her spectacularly, drily adds, "This would be much more convincing if you were kissing one of us." 

"Yes!" Clint agrees, suddenly visibly on board with the whole situation, eyes darting from Bucky to her and back again. "But who- aw _decisions,_ no."

"God, you guys talk too much," Bucky exclaims, raising his free hand to cup the back of Clint's head. "Alright?" Bucky asks and Natasha's pulse jumps as Clint closes the distance with a grin so wide and happy, his and Bucky's first kiss is a misaligned clacking of teeth. They laugh their way through it, making up with enthusiasm what they lack in finesse.

Off-balance in more than just the literal sense, Clint tips forward, blindly bracing himself on the next best handhold which just happens to be indecently high on Natasha's leg. 

When she jolts at the close brush of his thumb on the inside of her thigh, it makes Clint glance over and Bucky's kiss to stray to his jaw, starting a chain reaction of clumsy affection, punctuated by giggles more befitting to people half their age.

Clint eventually pulls back to catch his breath, beard burn on his cheeks and lips too red and plump for Natasha to look away from.

He laughs breathlessly, at a loss for words in the best of ways.

Smoothly, she slides off her sideways perch on Bucky's knee and into straddling Clint's lap.

"I always thought I was a dog person," he sighs as his arms close around her. "I never thought I could ever be this grateful for an unexpected litter of kittens."

**Author's Note:**

> This story _wanted_ to be written. It began as the first 500 words almost exactly as they stand now, hacked into text messages to CloudAtlas in the middle of the night. If it hadn't been for her patiently typing them out and insisting they become a fic, we might not have this now. I am very grateful that you did, it was a lot of fun. <3


End file.
